


Rollin' on a River

by agoodpersonrose



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Crush at First Sight, M/M, Meet-Cute, Rollerblades & Rollerskates, Waiters & Waitresses
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:13:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25899490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agoodpersonrose/pseuds/agoodpersonrose
Summary: After Christmas World moves in to the new vacant lot, David gets a job at the cafe- with one major twist.Fortunately for him, the new guy Patrick Brewer seems to like him even despite the skates.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 18
Kudos: 81





	1. Falling for You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fairmanor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fairmanor/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _"I left a good job in the city, working for the man every night and day"_

Someone, somewhere, has it out for David Rose.

He must have done something really wrong in another lifetime. Maybe he was Dracula, or a Spin Instructor. Those are the only two things he can think of to justify the position he finds himself in.

His mother, not content with simply destroying his confidence and revealing that her and his father had bought his patrons, then left to go and completely eradicate all hope at reclaiming his self-worth.

Christmas World had bought the new general store and were setting up shop for the long-run.

David vaguely considered getting a job at the new store. Some unrealistic fantasies about bringing the corporate structure down from the inside, but upon realising the only vacancies were for a ‘Happy Christmas Elf’, he quickly pushed that instinct down. He may have low self-esteem, but at the very least he has standards, and dressing as a vaguely Hebraic Santa Helper was not exactly in his brand.

But David needed a new job; his father was preoccupied working at the Motel, while Alexis worked at Ted’s and got her diploma. David never quite understood what kept his Mother so busy, but he couldn’t imagine her applying for any low paying jobs around Schitt’s Creek. It was up to him to bring in a regular income for his family.

It’s this hard fact that leads him to walk into the Café Tropicale, head hung low, and quietly ask Twyla at the counter if there are any vacancies. She brightens up at his question, and rolls around the counter on her-- Roller Skates.

“I’m so glad you asked!” She exclaims, as David continues to stare down at the monstrosities on her feet; pale pink shiny skates with white laces. She moves on them effortlessly as she glides over to a counter in the back and returns with some forms. “We were actually looking at hiring someone new since we started the re-branding.”

“Rebranding?” David manages to choke out. “What rebranding?”

“We’re going for a cheery roadside diner look, while still maintaining the age-old classic colour scheme, and the close community feeling.”

“So, the only thing you’ve changed is--”

“Everyone is going to wear roller-skates!”

David gapes at her, and then furrows his brow and casts a concerned eye to the window into the kitchen. “Everyone meaning--”

There’s a loud crash of pans followed by a quiet shout of “I’m okay!” from the back. David lets out a nervous laugh, but Twyla seems unphased by the interruption.

“It takes some getting used to, but you’ll be rolling around so much on them that after a while you won’t even notice them.”

David makes a face of disbelief but takes the forms from her, giving them a quick look.

“Okay, I will- Get these- back to you,” he says hesitantly.

“Brilliant, David. You can start Monday!”

David barks out another forced laugh before exiting the café with hunched shoulders. How did it get to this?

***

David’s parents are predictably amused and unhelpful when he reveals his plan to join the serving team at the café, but they are as aware of the family’s money constraints as he is. The earnings from the Blouse Barn will only go so far, especially if there is nothing else coming in.

At least his idea for the general store could have eventually brought in some real money, but no matter.

He passes the empty lot on his way back to the café the next day, signed forms in hand. The red _SOLD_ banner ripples in the wind as if laughing at him, and he grimaces at the first signs of the new inhabitants through the window; boxes and tacky decorations ready to get put out.

He pushes his disappointment down and shoulders his way into the café. Twyla spots him immediately and skates over.

“Hi David. Are those what I think they are?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

He hands over the papers which she skims, before pulling a pen out of her apron and signing the bottom. “This is so exciting! Something arrived for you this morning.”

“Really?” David asks, unsure whether he actually wants to know.

“Follow me!”

He does, walking slowly as she makes her way around chairs and tables, as well as diners outstretched legs. She leads him into a back room filled with boxes and spare tables and chairs, where she pulls out a large brown shoebox.

“I got you a pair of skates!”

“You didn’t even interview me?” David asks, putting off opening it as she pushes it into his hands. “You’re just going to give me a job like that?”

“I know you, David. I know that you’re trustworthy. Trust me, I think you’re really going to like these.”

He opens the box to find a pair of white skates, with black laces. They are nice, simple, and will go with his outfits. He can’t help but smile slightly at the sight of them.

“You got me these?” He asks softly.

“Are they okay? I tried to match them to a pair of shoes I saw you wear the other day,” Twyla asks, nervously twirling her fingers.

“How did you get these so fast?”

Twyla smirks and shakes her head. “I know a guy. So, do you like them? Do you want to give them a spin?”

David looks between her and the door, wary of the full diner of people sitting ready to watch him fall. He shakes his head, looking at the skates with trepidation and smiles at Twyla.

“I think maybe I should take these home and practice there. Ready for- _Monday.”_

“Sure, David. Practice over the weekend, and we can come back fresh on Monday. I’ll see you at eight.”

David gapes but nods. _“Eight.”_ He says weakly.

Time to learn how to skate.

***

David spends the next few days pushing himself along the front wall of the motel; up and down the walkway he goes, trying not to accidentally knock on any of the guest’s doors.

He falls over constantly, at one point relying on Stevie walking ahead of him and dragging him along after his confidence was shot from a bad trip. She was surprisingly steady but ultimately untrustworthy as she stopped and started, making David sway dangerously as they went.

On Saturday night, they got high. David tried to give Stevie a piggyback down the concrete in an attempt to balance without his arms out, but they ended up in a pile on the grass, laughing too hard to get back up.

By the Sunday, David was confident that he could at least roll slowly in a straight line, generally using chairs and tables as support, but well enough to take orders at the café at the very least.

He heads to work on the Monday morning, tired and grumpy from the early start, and nervous for the day ahead. Twyla is a patient teacher. She skates circles around David but swoops in to help him when he needs it and is surprisingly strong when he does need to grab her arm to get steady.

The linoleum floors of the café are smoother and more suited to the skates, so he picks that up surprisingly quickly.

By the lunch rush, he’s more confident. He’s not been trusted to carry any plates or fragile items yet, but after shadowing Twyla all morning he is finally sent out to take orders. He is gifted with a little black notebook and told to go around the tables and write their orders down.

He does well for the first few tables; stumbling through the speech about the specials and writing the requests down slowly in a neat elegant script. He is mostly serving familiar faces; Bob and some unknown woman that must be his wife, Stevie comes in for a while on her break just to chat with him, he serves his parents.

Finally, just as the lunch rush is dying down, he rolls over to a booth where Ray Butani is sitting with a man he doesn’t recognise. David stumbles slightly on the way over, but manages to stay upright, clinging to the table as he stops and gets his balance.

“Hi,” he breathes, his knuckles going white from their grip on the side. “What can I get you?”

“David, I didn’t know you had gotten a job here!” Ray exclaims. “If I had known you were looking for a job you could have come to me! I am extending my business into closet reorganisation and you could have been a model!”

“A model?” David asks, forcing his smile to stay in place while his eyebrows wreak havoc on his forehead. “ _Wow,_ what a shame that I already have a job then.”

The guy Ray is sitting with smirks at him, and David waves his pen at him.

“Who is this?”

“This is my associate, Patrick! He works for me.”

“As a model I assume?” David jokes, eyeing the generic dark blue button up and jeans the man is wearing. He lets his gaze linger for just a moment too long and watches with enjoyment as a blush spreads from Patrick’s neck to the tips of his ears.

“He’s my business consultant.” Ray says, clueless as ever.

“Yeah, I’m- I’m Patrick Brewer.” The man says, snapping out of some sort of daze and holding out a hand for David to shake.

David reaches for it automatically, forgetting that his other hand is clutching his notebook instead of the table and therefore removing all stabilisers from the equation.

It all happens so quickly. One moment he is holding onto the warm palm of Patrick’s hand, clinging on just a second too long and keeping some extremely hot eye contact with the other man. The next, his feet are slipping out from under him and his ass is hitting the ground with some force, the reverberations of his fall spreading through his body and making him wince.

He looks up to see Patrick’s face leaning over him, looking both concerned and amused as he kneels beside David. “I’m so sorry.” He’s saying as he holds out an arm to David. “Here, let me help you up.”

David lets him get pulled into a sitting position, rubbing the back of his head with a wince before Patrick tugs again.

David can’t help but enjoy the flex of Patrick’s bicep as he yanks him up off the floor. The distraction causes him to forget about the skates still strapped to his feet, and he almost slips backwards again but is caught by Patrick’s other arm grabbing his waist and holding him steady.

It is far from the most elegant thing David has ever done; his butt sticks out for just a second too long as he regains his centre of gravity, and he clings to Patrick’s chest pathetically, relying on his strength to pull him upwards. But when he straightens himself, he is brought chest to chest with the other man.

Patrick is likely shorter than David as it is, but the wheels add extra height and cause his eyes to be adjacent to his lips. David catches his gaze hover there for a moment before rising to look at David sheepishly.

“Hi,” he mutters, his voice lower than before, breaths coming shallowly from his lips which are slightly parted in surprise.

“Thank you- for that.” David whispers.

“It was no problem. Are you okay?”

“That was quite a tumble, David. Are you alright?” The sound of Ray’s voice snaps David out of his fervour, and he turns back away from Patrick to look at the other man.

“Um, yes. I’m fine. Nothing but a bruised ego,” he tries to joke, brushing his hands down his Rick Owens skirted pants and trying to slow his breathing so that his face won’t be so red.

Thankfully, Twyla had witnessed the crash and skates over to join them. She places a steady hand on David’s forearm and smiles pityingly at him.

“Well, your first fall had to happen at some point.” She says reassuringly. “Why don’t you take your lunch break. I can take over from here.”

David thanks Twyla, and slowly but surely makes his way back across the café, using the backs of chairs and nearby tables to keep himself upright. He turns back just before he enters the back room to find Patrick still watching him.

He smiles slightly at David; a small upcurve of his lips. David tries his best to return the gesture but puts an order in with George for a large serving of pancakes in an attempt to eat his feelings.

His first fall had to happen at some point, but why did it have to happen in front of the cute new guy in town? David whines to himself piteously as he tugs at the laces of his skates, kicking them off in a huff and throwing himself down onto a chair in the back.

He takes his time over lunch; polishing off his plate and only feeling minorly better by the end of it. He slips the skates back on and heads back to the main floor, determined not to let Patrick Brewer of all people ruin what was actually a very successful first day.

As he does so, he catches Ray and Patrick leaving the front door of the café together.

Patrick smiles at him over his shoulder, offering a small pitiful wave that David doesn’t respond. He doesn’t need sympathy from the new guy of all people. He’s doing just fine on his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been waiting to post this for a while so that I could edit properly but it's finally here! I'm intending on making a series of slices of life from this universe but hopefully they will all be able to be read as stand-alone.
> 
> Let me know what you thought by leaving a comment! ⛸


	2. The Way Things Might Have Been

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> David worries about being too obvious, while Patrick tries very hard to be obvious enough.

After the first couple of falls on his skates, David begins to get much better at manoeuvring around the cafe. He’ll never be as good as Twyla; but he has at least managed to stay upright enough to be trusted with carrying plates and dishes across to tables.

This means that he is finally able to start doing shifts on his own just two weeks into his time at the cafe. Twyla takes a well earned break, having carried the weight singularly on her shoulders for years, and goes away to visit family for a long weekend, leaving David in charge of waiting tables alone.

Thankfully, even on the busiest days the population of Schitt’s Creek does not add up to much. That mixed with the fact that people are surprisingly graceful when it comes to giving David time to adjust means that the few days are relatively lacking in stress.

That is, except for one customer, who seems to come in far more than necessary, and distracts David to no end with his smile, and his earnest eyebrows, and his cute--

“Hi, David.”

_Fuck._

David winces as the plate he was holding falls from his hands and clatters across the floor. Thankfully it was finished with, so he doesn’t have to go and apologise to George for making him cook it again, but looking at the smashed china is embarrassing all the same.

“I’ll be with you in a minute.” David grits out in his best customer service voice, ducking behind the counter to pull out a dustpan and brush.

Now comes the tricky bit; clearing up without getting floor dust on his jeans. He slowly lowers himself to a crouch position so that his four wheels on both feet remain on the floor. As he reaches out to start scooping the mess into the dustpan, he wobbles slightly, but something reaches out and catches his arm, keeping him steady.

When he looks up, Patrick is kneeling in front of him, one hand on his arm, the other carefully slipping the dustpan out from his fingers and deftly taking over the job. David can still feel the warm touch of his hand on his arm, and remains zoned out even as Patrick starts talking to him.

“Sorry, that was my fault.” He says softly, looking up at David and smiling as he does so. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Okay, I wasn’t scared, but--” He clings to Patrick as he pulls them both into a standing position. His bicep is surprisingly firm, and it flexes slightly under his hand. David holds on a moment too long as he tries to regather his thoughts but Patrick just smiles at him charmingly as usual. “I guess I should be saying thank you.”

“Well, if you insist on saying it.”

“Okay--” David grumbles, but he’s sure his small smile is giving him away. “I assume you came in to buy something, not just to offer cleaning services.”

Patrick nods as the moment is broken and returns to the counter, hopping up onto a stool as David throws away the broken plate.

“Just a tea, thanks David.”

“You drink a lot of tea,” David ponders as he puts the hot water on. “Do you need teabags or something? You know you can get those at the supermarket.”

“I don’t just come here for the tea.”

“Oh,” David blinks, pausing where he is pouring the hot water over the teabag and trying not to look too affected by the statement. “What else do you come here for?”

When he looks back up, Patrick is grinning the way he does when he’s about to tease David. “The muffins, I’ll have one blueberry if that’s okay?”

David silently finishes steeping the tea and grabs a muffin with the little metal prongs, carefully placing it in a paper bag which is spun to close the top, and hands it over to Patrick.

“Is that everything?”

Patrick hesitates, frowning a little as if he is trying to work up to saying something else, but he shakes his head and pulls out his wallet. “That’s everything, thanks.”

He pays and waves at David one final time, a soft earnest expression on his face as he heads towards the door.

_Nice one, David._

***

If he’s being honest, David can’t say that he is disappointed when Patrick returns to the cafe that evening. That is, until he realises the other man is not alone. He’s followed in by an attractive looking woman; long brown hair and delicate features. David nods, his lips in a thin line, and resigns himself to an evening of trying to ignore the disappointment that wells up inside him at the thought of watching Patrick’s new relationship flower right in front of his eyes.

“Hi, David,” Patrick says softly, smiling as usual as he rolls himself over to take their orders.

“Hi, would you like to start with some drinks for the table?”

“Um--”

“I’d love a glass of white wine,” the woman says, looking at Patrick with a soft smile. “Maybe we could split a bottle between us?”

“Um, I usually prefer red, but I could drink a white?” Patrick says, his Canadian politeness shining through.

“The Chardonnay is very nice, it’s not too dry so maybe you’ll like that?” David suggests. “Or I could get you each a single glass of your preferred wine.”

Patrick looks up and grins. “Sure, David. I can have the white. I trust your judgement.”

The woman seems disgruntled by this and looks between them with annoyance, so David tries to move the conversation on quickly.

“Are we ready to order anything to eat?”

David looks between the pair as the woman clearly tries to communicate something but it seems Patrick is not receptive. That’s strange, because Patrick has always seemed like the type to get silent signals very well, or at least, he always seems to know what to say to get David to blush and fumble.

“Well, I think I’ll have the Caesar Salad, thank you.” The woman finally says, handing David her menu.

“Okay, sure.” David says, scribbling it down on the page with one hand placed on the table edge as he balances the notebook in his elbow. He feels himself get a little wobbly and almost jumps out his skin when Patrick grabs his hand with a solid grip. “Oh.”

Patrick let's go as David regains his balance and looks suitably embarrassed, avoiding his eyes by looking back at the extensive menus.

“Um, can I have a tuna sub?”

“Mm?” David makes a sound of distaste without realising it, which somehow makes Patrick smile.

“What? Do you have something against my order, David?”

He groans and shakes his head. “Are we _married_ to the tuna sub?”

Patrick looks positively overjoyed by his judgement and blinks in surprise. “I have a pretty big hankering for it, why?”

“Nothing.” David forces out a smile as he flips his notebook shut. “I’ll be back shortly with your meal. Have a nice evening.”

He rolls away, sighing in distaste as he clips the new order to George’s board.

“Tuna sub? On a date?” George asks through the little window as he reads the slip. “She must really be trying to get out of it.”

“Nope, Patrick ordered the tuna.”

“Then he is clueless. The beautiful girl is way above his league. He must not know that it is a date.”

They both turn to look at the table again. The woman has her hands outstretched slightly on the table as if waiting for Patrick to take them, but his are tucked onto his lap out of sight. David sighs at his hopelessness and resolves himself to trying not to make his judgement clear to the diners.

Fortunately (or perhaps not), he soon gets an opportunity to clue Patrick in. He stands up from the table and heads to the restroom just as David is finishing an order. He rolls into Patrick’s path, grabbing his arm and pulling him to the side of the room.

“What do you think you’re doing?” David hisses as he pulls at Patrick’s arm. “What sort of an idiot orders tuna on a date? Are you trying to scare her away?”

Patrick blinks in surprise, seeming more distracted by David’s hand on his arm than by anything else. “A date? I’m not on a date, she’s a client, she just asked if I wanted to get dinner after our meeting.”

David fixes him with a hard stare. “At eight o’clock?”

“Well, yeah, maybe she had a late lunch.”

“Was she wearing that dress at your meeting today?”

Patrick turns around to look at the light purple dress his companion is wearing. Instead of seeming pleased by the reveal, his face pales and he looks frankly disgusted.

“Shit.”

“It’s okay, I can change your order. George and I thought it was weird but we still have time to fix this for you--”

“No, David. Don’t do that. Ugh, this is going to be so awkward.”

“What do you mean?”

Patrick looks confused by this. He stares at David with a sad expression before sighing and shaking his head. “Nothing. Thank you for the heads up, David, but don’t bother changing the order. I’ll talk to her.”

He heads to the bathroom without another word, awkwardly dragging David along on his skates for a step as he had forgotten he was still gripping Patrick’s arm, before he lets go and skates away to put the next order in.

The rest of the meal seems to go awkwardly but relatively painlessly for Patrick and his friend. They eat and share quiet conversation until they both finish and head out, splitting the bill evenly.

David watches them go with confusion, unable to shake the feeling that he had somehow done something wrong this afternoon.

***

The next day, the Sunday, Patrick comes in again just as David is putting away the clean crockery behind the counter. He straightens up and frowns, slipping the tray away and wiping his hands on his half apron.

“It’s a little late for you, isn’t it?” David asks. “Please don’t ask for a coffee, I _just_ bleached the espresso maker and I really can’t emotionally deal with cleaning it again.

Patrick smirks, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed against his chest, looking nervous. “No, I didn’t come in here for coffee.”

“Well we’ve stopped serving food, so--”

“Are you doing anything tomorrow night, David?”

David freezes and frowns. “Um, no, it’s my night off I’m afraid. Why, did you need me to chaperone another disaster date?” He teases, just to get a rise.

Patrick rolls his eyes but takes the punch. “Well, I’m hoping this one won’t be a disaster if you say yes.”

“Who is it with this time?” David asks, preparing himself to be disappointed. He looks down at the floor, avoiding Patrick’s eye, and is surprised to hear the scoff in response.

“David.” Patrick says helplessly. “I'm hoping, if you say yes, that the date might be with _you."_

David’s brain stops working for a moment. He rolls around the counter slowly and plonks himself down in a stool. Patrick stands in front of him looking wary.

“You want to go on a date with me?”

“That’s correct.”

Patrick scuffs his shoes on the floor as he waits for a response. David thinks back to all Patrick’s unnecessary visits to the cafe. To his expression whenever David responded to his quips, the way his arms seem to automatically reach for him every time he so much as wobbles, as if eager to be the one to catch him if he falls.

“So, all this time, you really _have_ been flirting with me?” David asks, still unwilling to believe it.

Patrick huffs a laugh and rolls his eyes. “I’m so glad you _finally_ noticed, David.”

“Okay, honestly, you were very snippy at times, so it’s not like it was obvious. Plus, then you were on a date with a woman, and you didn’t even know you were on a date, but it looked like you were because she was really into you and--”

“David,” Patrick interrupts his rambling thoughts. “I’m really hoping there’s an answer to my question somewhere in there.”

“Oh, of course. Um, yes. I would like to go on a date with you. Um, shall we say eight? Or is that not an obvious enough date time?”

Patrick’s smile is blinding as he stuffs his hands in his tight pockets and smiles bashfully. “Actually, I had a different idea. I’ll pick you up around two?”

“What do you have planned?” David asks, looking at him with narrowed eyes.

“Trust me, David. I think you’re really going to like this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been switching my ideas around about this but I've decided I'll put it in one fic even despite the fact that there are defined sections in it! Hope you enjoyed this little chapter, let me know what you thought!! ⛸


End file.
